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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28380201">Two a.m, where do I begin? (crying off my face again)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sammy_is_obsessed/pseuds/Sammy_is_obsessed'>Sammy_is_obsessed</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Penumbra Podcast</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Happy Ending, Heavy on both the hurt and the comfort, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, It's not nearly as sad as the title implies, Other, communication and tenderness? In my hurt-comfort? It's more likely than you'd think, mention of nightmare, not to worry there's quite a lot of comfort, they love each other so so much your honor, title from the song 'The Lonely' by Christina Perri</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:47:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,552</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28380201</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sammy_is_obsessed/pseuds/Sammy_is_obsessed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Juno stills, a shiver running through him.</p><p>He stands silent, listening as intently as he can for the sound, he’s sure he picked up on a moment ago. It’s faint, muffled, but it’s there. It takes him very little to identify that it’s coming from the bathroom, and, more urgently, that it’s crying.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>139</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Two a.m, where do I begin? (crying off my face again)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Juno Steel is not a heavy sleeper.</p><p>Sometimes he attributes it to his life as a detective; while not quite as dangerous as his current lifestyle on the Carte Blanche, he’s run into his fair share of trouble, and being alert has served him okay. If he thinks back, though, he’s always been like this. Maybe it’s because he lived in a household with Sarah Steel, and it paid to keep his guard up, always one his toes. Maybe Juno’s not the kind of guy to completely settle, even while sleeping. Or maybe he’s just a heavy sleeper because he <em>is</em>.</p><p>Regardless, Juno finds himself awake, the alarm clock beside him reading half-past two a.m. The detective turns to his side, ready to be lulled back to sleep in the arms of his lover when he realizes the spot beside him is empty. Juno runs his hands over the sheets, grimacing at how cold they feel.</p><p>He flicks the lamp on the end table on, casting half of the hotel room in amber light. Nureyev isn’t in the room and that twists something strange and uncertain in Juno’s gut.</p><p>So far, this job has been fairly easy. They’re posing a newly married couple – <em>again</em>, not that either of them is complaining – Mr. and Mrs. Atticus. Masquerading as stuffy socialites is something Juno never thought he’d become accustomed to, and yet it’s become far easier with practice, and with Nureyev by his side.</p><p>Peter Nureyev is always in his element during jobs like this. They’re meant to secure an emerald that sits proudly in a glass case located in the lobby of the hotel. “As easy a job as they come, darlings,” is how Buddy had put it, and Juno doesn’t doubt that she’s right. Despite how hoity-toity The Kingsley hotel located on Jupitar is, their security is frankly laughable. Honestly, it’s hardly necessary that this is a two-man job; Juno distantly wonders if Buddy is throwing them a bone. The heists as of late have been rigorous and this job is more down-time than anything else.</p><p>They’ll conduct the heist tomorrow morning. Today, they’ve pretty much had the time for themselves, free to enjoy the many amenities The Kingsley has to offer. They have a wonderful botanical garden, a luxurious pool, and their room is lavish. They’ve been having fun; at least, Juno <em>thought</em> they were having fun.</p><p>He rises from bed, glancing toward the balcony. He doesn’t see Nureyev, and if he isn’t there, then where –</p><p>Juno stills, a shiver running through him.</p><p>He stands silent, listening as intently as he can for the sound, he’s sure he picked up on a moment ago. It’s faint, muffled, but it’s there. It takes him very little to identify that it’s coming from the bathroom, and, more urgently, that it’s <em>crying</em>.</p><p>Juno’s heart sinks to his feet. He walks slowly towards the bathroom door, far too aware of the creaking floor beneath his feet. At this distance it’s unmistakable; Peter Nureyev is sobbing. It’s a gentle, trained sound. The sound of someone who’s had years of practice trying to hide their vulnerabilities, of Peter trying to hide from Juno.</p><p>He pauses, his heart beating a mile a minute. For a brief, stupid moment he thinks, <em>maybe… maybe I should give him a minute. Should I wait for him to come back to bed, and then find out what’s wrong? </em></p><p>He shakes the thought from his mind the second it surfaces. No, he doesn’t know how long Nureyev’s been in here. Frankly, that doesn’t matter. What matters is that his love is crying in the bathroom, and he needs to do something.<em> Now</em>.</p><p>“Nureyev?”</p><p>He hates the way his voice warbles. He’d intended to sound reassuring and gentle, not so pitifully afraid.<em> Is</em> he afraid?</p><p>Behind the closed door, Nureyev’s breath hitches. There’s a pause, then:</p><p>“Juno! Darling. I’ll – I’ll come back to bed in just a minute.”</p><p>“Are you hurt?” Juno feels so foolish to not have asked sooner; what if something’s gone wrong? What if somehow, Nureyev has injured himself?</p><p>“<em>What</em>? No. Why in the world would I be?”</p><p>Peter Nureyev is a phenomenal actor. He’s conned the best, convinced nobles of preposterous notions, stolen jewelry right off the wearer in the middle of conversations but Juno <em>knows</em> him. He can hear the hurt from a mile away, the scrambled attempt at composure. It makes him nauseous.</p><p>“Hon… what’s the matter? Why’re you crying?”</p><p>It isn’t the greatest approach. Juno knows it’s clumsy at best, but at the moment, it’s all he’s got. He’s standing on the other side of a door, wishing desperately to open it and banish anything and everything that is hurting the man he loves. But he hasn’t gotten permission and doing so could quickly worsen things.</p><p>“I’m fine, Juno.” He doesn’t deny the truth, and Juno can’t tell if that points to things being better or worse than he’d assumed. Probably the latter.</p><p>“No, you aren’t. Talk to me, Nureyev. Please.”</p><p>“It’s nothing. Go back to bed.” Nureyev is sniffling now, and oh god, it’s like a laser beam to the heart.</p><p>“It isn’t nothing if it makes you cry. I’m - I’m getting worried.” Nureyev exhales sharply.</p><p>“It’s nothing to worry yourself with, love. I promise,” he says, but the unsteadiness of his words indicates otherwise.</p><p>“I don’t believe you.”</p><p>“Then <em>try</em>, Juno. Please… I just…” He trails off, and Juno is nearly certain that he’s sobbing into his hands.</p><p>“Did I do something? O-or say something? Because, if I did, I’m <em>so</em> sorry. And, and we can talk about it. <em>Should</em> talk about it. if I’ve hurt you I –.”</p><p>“Juno. We’ve got a job tomorrow,” Nureyev’s composure is holding on by a thread, one that’s quickly snapping, “You need your rest. L-leave me be, okay? Just… let me get my bearings.”</p><p>“I won’t sleep without you next to me.” As it turns out, that was the wrong choice of words, because suddenly, the thread snaps.</p><p>He’s sobbing long and hard, the sound bubbling and uncontrolled. He isn’t trying to hold it back anymore; likely, he <em>can’t</em>. Juno’s fingers splay out across the door, palm pressed hard against it. He wants to pull Nureyev against his chest and hold him forever, He wants to soothe him, to do anything to make him stop feeling this way. The agony of this moment rivals the loss of his eye in that Martian tomb.  </p><p>“Nureyev… honey. Can I come in? Please?” He’s begging and he doesn’t care. His stomach is tied in knots, heart hammering in his rib cage so hard he’s almost concerned about it. Because no matter the many horrible things he’s gone through in his life, this feels like it might take the cake.</p><p>Nureyev is weeping and, somehow, it’s his fault. He <em>knows</em> it is.</p><p>“Sweetheart,” he says, voice growing hoarse, “Can I please open the door and come inside?”</p><p>A terrible, tense silence hangs heavy in the air before Juno hears it: the faintest, most subdued “okay.”</p><p>Juno’s hand trembles as he turns the knob. The sight before him is about as heart-shattering as he’d been preparing himself for, but he’d only been telling himself he was ready. He isn’t.</p><p>The bathroom is far larger than necessary, but it lines up with the opulence of the rest of the hotel. The floor is white marble, so shiny you can see your reflection. There’s a double sink with twin silver-framed mirrors, and all of the fixtures are made from solid gold, by the looks of things.</p><p>And then there’s Peter Nureyev, sitting with his back to the bathtub, a triangular, luxurious one that sits in the corner of the room. His long, thin legs are bent so his face is buried between his knees, arms wrapped around his legs and his form racked with heaving sobs. He’s shaking terribly, as though the room is freezing cold. Juno’s shaking too, he realizes, but he tries his best to ignore that. This isn’t about him.</p><p>He’s cautious as he approaches the thief, his movements slow and calculated. Nureyev’s cries dull down to a whine for a moment as Juno kneels in front of him, giving him enough distance if he desires an escape route. There’s no need to cage him in.</p><p>“Nureyev,” Juno’s words come out slowly, his tone as reassuring as he can manage, “Honey, can I touch you? Would that be okay?”</p><p>It’s difficult to tell at first, but Nureyev is nodding. Steadily, the detective extends his arms out, wrapping them around Nureyev’s waist. He doesn’t know how he expects him to react, his hold loose and cautious. But then Nureyev’s arms are wound around him, his legs wrapping around his hips, and suddenly he’s in his lap. Nureyev buries his face in Juno’s shoulders, his sharp nails digging into Juno’s back as he clings to him bordering on painful – not that Juno is about to complain about such things.</p><p>“Hey. <em>Hey</em>, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay,” Juno shushes, one hand threading into Nureyev’s silky locks and the other tracing circles on his back.</p><p>Juno’s never been good at this, making people feel better when they’re at their lowest (Rita always insists otherwise, but he doesn’t have time to consider that). And that’s another thing. This, <em>this</em> is Peter Nureyev’s lowest. That’s saying something, considering Juno’s seen him murder his father figure, a man who’d raised him on lies. He’s seen him in every kind of peril known to mankind, and yet, he’s never seen him like this.</p><p>It’s an upsetting, but maybe necessary reminder that Peter Nureyev is human. Behind the many masks he wears, past artfully applied make-up and the carefully constructed aliases, the glitz and the glamour he portrays to the galaxy, he’s a <em>person</em>. A person Juno loves so, so much. And sometimes, people get hurt.</p><p>Right now, it’s Juno’s job to hold him and to promise everything’s going to be alright despite any hesitancies he has and damn it, he’s gonna try.</p><p>“It’s alright, hon. It’s okay,” he whispers, pressing a kiss into Peter’s hair, “I got you. I love you. I love you so damn much.” Nureyev shivers have died down some, his cries beginning to cease, but the storm isn’t over yet. Still, he manages to get out a crackling, “Love y-you too.”</p><p>“I know you do. I know,” he says, continuing to trace patterns on his back. “You show me every day. You’re real good at doing that, y’ know?”  </p><p>At this point, Juno’s just talking. But he runs his mouth most of the time, and it seems to be helping a little. So he keeps going.</p><p>“I tell you what, sometimes it still kind of floors me, how sweet you are. I don’t know if I’m ever gonna get used to how boldly, and openly you love – but it’s amazing. You hold me like no one’s ever held me and look at me like I hung the damn stars myself. It’s incredible, how good you are. And I’m always gonna love it. I’m always gonna love <em>you</em>, Nureyev. You’re one of the best things that have happened to me.”</p><p>“Juno…”</p><p>Nureyev’s voice is weak, just above a whisper, but he isn’t sobbing anymore. He peaks up from Juno’s shoulder, his lashes wet and face red, tear-tracks stuck to his cheeks.</p><p>“Yes? What do you need?” Juno asks, one hand supporting Nureyev’s neck, the other on the small of his back. Juno's sure, in this moment and almost any other, he'd do anything Nureyev asked of him. </p><p>“A kiss would be acceptable,” Nureyev says hesitantly, lips curling into a smile. It’s small and tinged with sadness, but it’s there. Juno’s glad for its mere existence.</p><p>“Of course. Anything.”</p><p>He leans downward, pressing his lips to Nureyev’s. it’s chaste and tastes of salt, but neither of them seems to care. The embrace releases some small amount of tension from the thief’s shoulders, and he sighs against Juno, the sound almost content.</p><p>“Love… I’m sorry -,” Nureyev begins after a moment, but Juno is quick to step in.</p><p>“No. Don’t start that. You haven’t got anything to be sorry for.”</p><p>Nureyev doesn’t believe him, Juno can tell, but he won’t give in. Instead, he kisses Nureyev’s cheek, and then the other, and holds onto him like he’s the most precious thing in the universe (He<em> is</em>, of course).</p><p>“Hey, you’d better drink some water. Don’t want you to be dehydrated,” Juno begins, moving as to imply he’s standing up. Nureyev’s hold on him tightens, just so. Okay. Juno can work with that.</p><p>“Up we go,” he says, making sure he’s got a firm grasp on the thief before hoisting him up off the cool tile floor. With one hand below his long legs and the other on his back, he walks them out of the bathroom and gently sets Nureyev on the bed.</p><p>He lets go of him – momentarily, though he can hear the slight whimper Nureyev must not mean to let out – and opens the minifridge, retrieving a water bottle which he hands to him.</p><p>“Thank you, darling,” he says in a tone that suggests he isn’t just thanking him for the beverage.</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>Nureyev drains most of the bottle before setting it on the nightstand and lying his head on Juno’s lap.</p><p>“Are you feeling any better?” Juno asks, interrupting the lull of silence that’s fallen over them. Nureyev shifts so that he’s looking away from him.</p><p>“Yes. Quite a bit. I apologize. That was a rather ghastly display, no doubt.” The disgust in his voice is heartbreaking. He sounds so ashamed of himself as if he’s unleashed tremendous horrors on Juno, rather than merely been vulnerable in front of him.</p><p>Juno sighs, settling a hand on Nureyev’s shoulder.</p><p>“Nureyev, baby, it’s like I already told you: you don’t need to apologize. You haven’t done anything wrong. Nothing at all,” Juno pauses, chewing on his bottom lip, “But…<em> I</em> have, right?”  </p><p>Nureyev stiffens, but still, his eyes do not meet Juno’s.</p><p>“I never said that. You’re putting words in my mouth.” Juno exhales softly, rubbing Nureyev’s shoulder.</p><p>“It’s alright. We don’t need to talk about it tonight if you aren’t ready.”</p><p>“What’s there to talk about?” Nureyev asks indigently. It’s a weak attempt at dropping the conversation, but at the moment, that’s all the fight he’s got in him. Juno goes quiet altogether, before saying,</p><p>"Peter…”</p><p>The use of his first name is what gets Nureyev to finally meet the detective’s gaze.   </p><p>“It’s… silly,” Nureyev’s voice comes out small and afraid.</p><p>“Not if it’s upsetting you, it isn’t.” Nureyev squeezes his eyes shut as if doing so will somehow stop this conversation from happening.</p><p>“But it <em>is</em>. I’m just being foolish, and it’s terribly embarrassing. God, this <em>whole </em>evening is embarrassing.”</p><p>“Hey,” Juno says, his voice as commanding as it is soft, “You don’t need to be embarrassed. I love you, okay? I’m here, and I’ll keep being here through whatever you’re going through. Through anything.”</p><p>Nureyev lets out a painfully defeated sigh. He sits up, back to his lady an arms-length away.</p><p>“I… I had a nightmare, alright? See? Silly. Unbelievably silly.”</p><p>“Nureyev,” Juno says, seeing his love beginning to tremble again. “There’s nothing silly about that. What was –.”</p><p>“It’s just,” he cuts him off with a groan, “This job is drugging… rather unpleasant memories up. Ones I’d rather simply file away.”</p><p>Juno thinks for a moment and then, it hits him like a freight train. God, how stupid could he be? Of course, being in a hotel room with Juno Steel, the lady who <em>abandoned</em> him in the middle of the night would bring up unpleasant memories!</p><p>“Oh. <em>Oh</em>. Honey, I –.”</p><p>“<em>Don’t</em>,” Nureyev says pointedly, voice rough and threatening to break, “Whatever you’re going to say, just – just don’t, yeah? We’ve already talked about this. A lot.” Juno tries and fails, to swallow the lump in his throat.</p><p>“I know we have,” he says softly, reaching out to lay his hand against Peter’s back. An idea strikes him. “We could leave.”</p><p>Nureyev turns around, eyes glistening slightly.</p><p>“Beg pardon?”</p><p>“If this is too hard, we could quite the job. We’ll – well will have to come up with something to say to the crew. God, Vespa will want our heads on a spike! Not that she doesn’t want that most of the time, but still.”</p><p>“Juno,” Peter says, heart-swelling in his chest, “We can’t just abandon this heist. Especially not one this easy. We can’t do that to the family.”</p><p>“But maybe we should? If being here is hurting you, I mean. If it’s too hard, we could leave. I could call Jet right now, and say that, well that <em>something</em> happened, went wrong, or whatever. And that the heist is off, and then we could sleep in my room. And, and we’ll never, ever need to go back to another hotel room if you don’t want to. And – oh, baby, what is it? What did I say?”</p><p>Nureyev runs a hand along his face, his fingers coming back damp. He’s trembling, and Juno’s looking at him with a lost, frightened look in his eye. His detective is afraid he’s done something wrong. How is it that he doesn’t understand he’s entirely too wonderful for his own good?</p><p>Nureyev practically tackles Juno, sending both of them sprawled out on the bed, him lying on top of Juno. He holds on tight to his lady, sniffling against his chest.</p><p>“Nureyev? Hon?”</p><p>“I love you,” he says wetly, then finds himself laughing, “I love you wholly and completely, Juno Steel.”</p><p>“I – I love you too,” Juno says, voice a mix of sincerity and confusion, “But… why are you crying again?”</p><p>“Because you’re kinder than you’ll ever know.” Within moments, Juno goes from slightly to completely confused.</p><p>“I don’t understand.”</p><p>“You’re offering me an out. You don’t need to do that.”</p><p>“Of course I do! I already fucked things up once, I don’t need to go and do it again.”</p><p>“Oh, Juno,” Peter says faintly, holding tight to his detective, “Darling, I’ve long since forgiven you. I’m not angry anymore, nor do I expect you to ‘prove yourself’ to any degree.”</p><p>“But-.”</p><p>“I had a dream that you left. That I woke up in this room and… and that you were gone. And even though you were sleeping right beside me, it felt… real. It felt so real…” Nureyev trails off, his voice trembling.</p><p>“It wasn’t real. I promise, I’m not gonna leave you again, Nureyev. <em>Never</em>.” Nureyev’s lips upturn to a small smile when he notices Juno’s holding onto him firmly, as if to clarify that he’s here with him now, physical, real, and unmoving.</p><p>“I know,” Nureyev chokes out, “I didn’t always… I wasn’t positive. But I am now. I should’ve come to you the moment I woke. Could’ve avoided the dramatics, I suspect.”</p><p>“It’s okay that you didn’t,” Juno says, “Thank you, for letting me help.” Nureyev sighs, whipping his eyes on Juno’s pajama shirt.</p><p>“Thank you for helping, my love.”</p><p>They sit there in the quiet for a beat, Nureyev with his face buried in Juno’s chest.</p><p>“So… what do you want to do about the heist?” He asks, sounding hesitant. Peter climbs off of him, meeting the detective’s eyes.</p><p>“We’ll do it as planned, of course.” Juno eyes him carefully, setting a gentle hand on his forearm.</p><p>“You’re sure?” Nureyev nods, the look in his eyes tired but certain.</p><p>“I am.”</p><p>“And you’re okay with staying here the rest of the night? You’re sure that’s alright?” Juno asks, still sounding fairly guilty. Unnecessarily so, Nureyev thinks to himself. But this is hardly a conversation that’s going to undo a mountain of insecurities on both of their parts.</p><p>“So long as you hold me close, yes. I think I’ll manage just fine.”</p><p>“I can do that.”</p><p>He shuts the light out, pulling Nureyev into his arms the moment their back under the covers together.</p><p>He feels Nureyev relax against him, his breathing having grown steady and even. Things aren’t right as rain; he doubts they ever are, honestly. But they’re stable, and it doesn’t feel like Juno’s heart is going to beat right out of his chest anymore. He isn’t nearly as afraid as he was when he’d first heard Nureyev’s cries and his love doesn’t seem anywhere close to as distressed as he had been. They’re gonna be okay.</p><p>“You’ll wake me if you have another dream, right? Or if anything feels off?”</p><p>“Juno, I want you to actually get some sleep tonight.” Juno squeezes his shoulder, the gesture a combination of reassurance and a plea.</p><p>“Please? If not for your sanity, then mine?” Nureyev sighs, kissing Juno’s cheek.</p><p>“Alright, my love. I will.”</p><p>“Good,” Juno says, relief evident in his tired voice, “Goodnight, hon. I love you.”</p><p>“I love you too,” Nureyev responds, finally feeling secure enough to shut his eyes.</p><p>He can’t be sure if it’s the exhaustion from crying or the fear his nightmare had instilled, but within minutes, Nureyev is in a calm, dreamless slumber.</p><p>For once, in a life so wrought with tension, Juno Steel and Peter Nureyev find themselves utterly at ease, a blessing they most certainly deserve.</p><p>=+=</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to hear what you thought, and kudos are always apprecaited. Have a wonderful day/night!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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